She warns me it won’t happen overnight, but I will start to feel better over time, and eventually the nightmares and flashbacks will no longer be an issue. I might still have them, but I’ll be able to cope with them better.
It’s like a hundred-pound weight has been shoved off my shoulder. Unfortunately, the other one is still pinned down with the weight of knowing the cops have no idea who’s been sending me the quotes. It’s not Paul. That’s all they know.
I leave the therapist’s office and find a quiet spot on campus, where no one is hanging out. I claim an empty bench overlooking one of the snow-covered sport fields. Before I listen to Marcus’s messages, there’s one thing I have to do. The one thing I’ve put off too long.
I need to apologize to Mom.
Usually she’d be at the office, but when I call her, her assistant tells me that Mom phoned in sick. I know why she’s sick, and it has nothing to do with a cold or flu.
I dial my home number. Mom doesn’t answer. I get her voicemail instead. It’s not what I want, but it’ll have to do—for now.
“Mom, it’s Amber.” My pulse pounds loud and fast in my ears at what I’m about to tell her. I shouldn’t be this nervous. But I am. “I just want to tell you that I love you and that I’m sorry for what I said. I love you very much and I miss you. I miss the mom who doesn’t drink. The one who once told me she loved me more than anything.” A small sob escapes, but I don’t let that get in my way of telling her how I feel. “I wish you would come back to me, Mom. I want you back, but I want the mom who doesn’t drink. And the mom who would have never looked at me and blamed me for Michael’s death.” I hang up and take a deep breath, knowing it’s too late to grab the words back. Not that I want to.
I’d have preferred to tell her everything to her face, but with the way my grades are dropping, I don’t have time to go home, especially since finals start tomorrow. I didn’t want to wait another week to talk to her. Now I just have to hope she listens to the message—the entire message—and that it will make some sort of difference, no matter how small.
With my head down, I walk back to my dorm. And accidentally bump into someone.
“Sorry,” I say as I look up, only to discover I ran into Emma. Before she can say anything, I fling my arms around her shoulders and hug her. She stiffens at first, but then returns my hug, holding me tight. The heaviness in my chest that has been there since spring fades.
“I’m so sorry, Em. For everything.” I pull away, even though I never want to let go of her again. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
She nods, a soft smile on her face. That alone is enough to ease some of tension that’s been building in me with everything that’s going on.
We walk to The Coffee Shack where we order drinks, then find a quiet corner by a large window overlooking the campus.
Loud laughter breaks out from a large group of students several tables away, but they’re far enough from us to prevent them from overhearing our conversation.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I sip my coffee. I wouldn’t be surprised if the force of my heart fractures one of my ribs. “I’m sorry about what Paul did to Trent. And I don’t blame you if you hate me. I deserve it.”
Emma’s lip trembles and she chews it for a second. “How could I hate you, Amber? You were my best friend. And you had nothing to do with what happened to Trent. You were as much a victim as he was. I just don’t get why you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. I thought we were best friends. I needed you, but you wanted nothing to do with me, or any of our other friends.”
She sniffs. “When you were found, I tried to visit you so many times, at the hospital and then at your house. But your mom kept telling me you needed time, that you weren’t ready to talk to me. Then you came back to school and avoided me. You avoided everyone. Why?”
I close my eyes briefly. When I reopen them, the world is a blur of colors. “I was so messed up when the firefighters found me. I was barely holding on. Paul hurt me in ways you could never imagine, but knowing how much he hurt you when Trent died—” my voice shakes “—was worse than anything Paul ever did to me. I knew seeing me would only cause you more pain. I couldn’t do that to you, Em. You had lots of friends who would help you. I thought you were better off without me.”
She just stares at me, barely breathing. “What about you? You had no one.” She wipes away a tear. “I saw you at school looking half-dead. I wanted to help you but when I tried, you’d disappear. I even talked to your grandmother. She was worried about you, but she was afraid if she pushed you, you would pull away further. Neither of us knew what to do.”
I turn my gaze to the window and sigh. “I know. She tried to get me to go back to therapy, but I couldn’t.” I look back at her and smile. “Until today. I realized I couldn’t deal with everything on my own anymore.” Not that I was dealing with it. “I’ve started to see a therapist.”
Emma’s face lights up. “Does that mean we can be friends again?”
I nod. “I would love that.” We talk about what we’ve been up to for the past few months. I avoid the topic of Marcus.
“I talked to your boyfriend today,” she says at one point. “He really cares about you. You’re so lucky.”
I almost choke on my coffee at her words, but smile as if I already knew this. “I miss Trent and I’ll always love him.” I remove my hoodie and place my bare arm on the table, tattoo side up. Scars and all.
She gasps then her eyes widen and she grins. Though there’s no missing the moisture in her eyes due to the scars on my wrist and the meaning behind the tattoo.
“I’m betting your mom doesn’t know about this?” She runs a finger over her brother’s name. “Where did you get it done?”
I tell her.
“And here I thought you weren’t the tattooing type.” She laughs, and I realize how much I’ve missed the sound of it.
“Grandma loves it,” I say, grinning.
“I bet she does. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has several tattoos you don’t know about.” Her smile vanishes and her expression grows sober. “I’m sorry about what I told Tammara. I had no idea she was going to use that information to hurt you.”
I frown. “Tammara? What are you talking about?”
Emma’s face pales. “I thought you knew. That’s why I was talking to Marcus. He didn’t tell you?”
“I haven’t talked to him”—for over a week—“today.”
“I was upset and Tammara pretended to be my friend, and I kinda told her about the sick notes the murderer used to send you. I never realized she’d use that to hurt you.”
I stop breathing and gape at Emma. It’s all I’m capable of after hearing that Marcus’s ex-girlfriend is the cause of my recent downward spiral.
“You okay?”
I nod. More than okay. Everything now makes sense. Tammara’s been trying to drive me away from Marcus and drag him back into her life. And she almost won. But it also means Marcus and I are no longer in danger. No one’s going to hurt us.
More than ever, I want to listen to Marcus’s messages, but this isn’t the right time. Not with Emma and I finally talking again.
I get the chance a few minutes later when a very tall, very cute guy walks over to our table. He flops on the seat next to Emma and smiles at her before asking if it’s okay if he sits with us. It doesn’t take long to clue in that not only do they know each other, something’s going on between them. I’ve never seen her smile like that at a guy. He means more to her than the short-term flings she had in high school.
“Go ahead,” I say. “I need to check my messages.”
The only messages I’ve received are from Marcus. “Kitten, I’m sorry about...what happened. It’s not what you think. I need you. Please call me.” There’s a similar message after that.
God, how could
I have been so stupid? He’s done nothing but try to help me, and I turned my back on him without giving him a chance to explain his reaction that night.
Deep down I know why I ran and why I’ve avoided listening to his messages. And why I’ve come up with every reason why I needed to push him away. I’ve been afraid. Afraid of my growing feelings for him. I loved Trent and he was stolen from me. I was afraid to love again and have that person taken away as well. I was afraid that by loving Marcus, I would be betraying Trent’s memory. But I’ve already been betraying his memory by trying to forget. The therapist was right. I have been trying to block out everything to help me move on, except I haven’t moved on at all.
I call Marcus’s number but end up with his voicemail. Emma and the guy are laughing, their attention focused on each other.
I grab my jacket and backpack off the seat next to me, and after a quick goodbye, I run out of the building.
There’s somewhere else I need to be.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Marcus
My cell phone rings from the coffee cup holder as I drive down the street toward Tammara’s apartment. Thinking it might be Amber I check the name. It’s Alejandro’s mom.
A bad feeling in my gut warns me something’s wrong. I answer the phone.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Is Alejandro with you, Marcus?” Her voice sounds like she’s trying to be calm but it’s not working. Her words are too rapid to hide the truth.
“No. I haven’t seen him since Thursday.” And when I did see him, he still seemed pissed at me. When I asked him about that, he pointedly ignored me. I sigh. What the hell am I supposed to do? Everything inside me is screaming he’s in trouble. “You want me to look for him?”
“Yes, please. He never showed up for school, and no one seems to know where he is.”
After I hang up, I head directly to Carlos’s lair. I know what I’m doing is stupid, especially since I have no one watching my ass. But right now it doesn’t matter. I need to get Alejandro away from Carlos.
I pull ahead of a car that looks like it got into a fight and barely came out the winner. I’ve no idea how many men are with him, but based on the number of cars parked in front of Carlos’s house, there are at least five guys.
I’m fucked. Big time.
I’d call Chase, but it won’t be enough to even the odds, and I don’t want to get him involved. He’s got everything to live for.
I park my car farther down the street and take a deep breath. It does nothing to calm my out-of-control heart rate, but as long as Carlos can’t sense my fear, I should be fine.
Loud music blares from a neighbor’s house. Silence blankets Carlos’s place. If it weren’t for the cars, a few of which I recognize, I would have figured no one is here.
Before I can walk up the path, the door opens and one of Carlos’s lynchmen steps out. At first I think he’s expecting me, which is why he opened the door, but the flicker of surprise on his face before he recovers suggests otherwise.
He calls out something in Spanish. I don’t understand most of it, other than a few choice curses directed at me, but I’m sure the men inside are chuckling if his joyful tone is anything to go by.
I take a step forward, ignoring the ache in my ribs and its not-so-subtle reminder of what happened last time I confronted Carlos and his gang. “I’m looking for Alejandro Rodriquez.”
Another man steps out of the house, followed by Carlos, a delighted sneer on his lips. He stays in the doorway while the two men flank it. “What are you, his mamá?”
The men chuckle, the sound void of humor.
Carlos folds his arms across his chest in what appears to be a relaxed stance. I know better than to fall for it. He’s as tightly wound up as his men. Make the wrong move and I’m dead before I can say Amber’s name.
“I take it my message wasn’t clear enough last time,” he says. “You mess with Alejandro and you mess with us.”
That’s not quite the gist of it as I remember. I seem to remember it more along the lines of “you mess with us and you’re fucked,” but whatever. The outcome’s the same either way.
“I’m not looking for trouble. All I want is to take Alejandro home.” I hold my arms out to the side. “That’s all.”
“What makes you so sure he’s here?”
“’Cause I saw the bike you bought him. ’Cause it’s obvious you’re trying to recruit him.”
Carlos laughs with an edge of humor that causes me to stiffen. “I’m not fucking Santa Claus.” His men chuckle. I ignore them.
“So you’re saying you had nothing to do with the bike?”
He takes a step forward. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His eyes narrow but stay steady on me. “Maybe you’ve got the wrong gang. Maybe he decided to join the Blood Crappers.” His men laugh at the purposefully messed up name. “Did you ever consider that?”
He rattles off something in Spanish and the men laugh. One of them replies, also in Spanish. “I was asking them what we should do with you. Martinez thinks you’re stupid enough to bang down the Blood Crappers’ door and let ’em kill you. I’ll have to agree with him there.” He snaps his fingers and Martinez pulls out his semi-automatic and levels it at me. My already fast heart rate spikes. “Now, unless you have some more pressing business with us, I suggest you run along.”
Instinct tells me to leave. And for once I have to agree with it. Without turning my back on them, I return to my car, aware Carlos or Martinez could change their mind at any second and shoot me.
I start the engine and speed away.
Shit. If Carlos isn’t the problem, then I don’t even know where to look for Alejandro.
I drive around the neighborhood, checking all the places he could be, before making my way to the youth center. I haven’t heard from Alejandro’s mom since I last talked to her, which means he isn’t home yet.
It’s dark by the time I get there. Dave’s car isn’t here but the lights are on inside.
I park my car and jog to the main entrance. Maybe whoever is here has seen Alejandro. Otherwise, I’ll have to do what Carlos predicted would happen; I’ll have pay a visit to their rival.
I pull open the door and enter the building. An odd silence settles around me, giving the place a strange morgue-like feel.
Light streams out from under Dave’s office door. As I walk closer, I hear voices coming from inside but can’t make out what they’re saying.
I reach for the doorknob and almost sag with relief when I hear Alejandro’s voice. But the next voice sends a cold finger of fear down my spine: Frank.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Amber
Marcus could be anywhere.
I check the engineering building, in case he’s hanging out there late. I even ask a few people if they’ve seen him. Either they know who I’m talking about and haven’t seen him, or have no idea who Marcus is. I even try calling Chase, but I get only his voicemail.
After exhausting every possibility, I head to the dorm parking lot, calling Marcus as I walk. When I still get only his voicemail, I hurl my bag into the passenger seat of the car. Why isn’t he answering?
Maybe he changed his mind about me after leaving the message? Maybe Jordan and Emma got things wrong. Either way, I need to talk to him and find out where things stand between us.
His car isn’t at his apartment building. Chase’s car is, though. I miss Marcus, but there’s one thing I should find out before risking my heart again.
After Chase buzzes me into the building, I knock on the guys’ door. Chase opens it wearing only jeans. He’s good looking and works out, yet unlike his roommate, he’s never used his looks to entice girls into his bed.
Then again, maybe there’s a girl currently in his bed and I’m interrupting. My face he
ats up at that possibility.
But instead of glowering at me, Chase cocks his head to the side and gives me a half smile. “You looking for someone?”
“I need to talk to you.”
The hopeful gleam in his eyes drops away. He steps aside and lets me in. “You want anything to drink?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
Chase walks over to the tiny kitchen and returns with a beer.
I accidentally glance at the couch. The image of what happened last time I was here on that couch sneaks into my mind and a tingling warmth spreads throughout my body.
Swallowing back the ache at the memory of what happened after that, I look away. And notice a dent in the wall that wasn’t there before.
“What can I do you for?” Chase asks, waiting patiently for me to pull myself together.
“I need to know the truth.” I look him squarely in the eyes. “Is Marcus sleeping around again?”
Chase lets out a hard breath. “Not yet, but....” He pauses, visibly conflicted.
“But what?”
“I’ve been friends with Marcus since elementary school. He’s always been restless and reckless, till he met you. But since your breakup, he’s been sliding back to the guy he used to be.”
“You’re worried he’ll do something stupid.” He already has, and that left him with an injured rib.
Chase nods. “Can I ask a question?”
“Sure, what?”
He levels his gaze at me. “Are you here to hurt him again or what’s the deal?”
“I made a mistake. I thought he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I know now that’s not true. I’ve been trying to get hold of him to talk to him, but he’s not answering his phone.”
“Try the youth center. He’s been hanging out there a lot lately.”
Of course.
Tell Me When Page 25
